


Christmas Eve service

by Small_Hobbit



Series: Twelve Days of Christmas plus One [3]
Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: M/M, Retirement Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-24 19:13:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17106506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_Hobbit/pseuds/Small_Hobbit
Summary: There is a service on Christmas Eve in the village to which Holmes and Watson have retired.  Inevitably they are involved.





	Christmas Eve service

**Author's Note:**

> For Howsmyenglish

It seemed strange to think this was our third Christmas in our cottage.  When we had moved down to Sussex, I had assumed our days would pass more slowly, and had even feared Holmes would find our new life a trifle boring.  Now I was astonished to realise we were over halfway through our third year.

In the past Christmas had normally been a relatively quiet time, Holmes’ frequent complaint being that even the criminals seemed to take a break from their regular activities.  Here, however, there was plenty to occupy us, with the added advantage that if an activity didn’t appeal, we could excuse ourselves by saying we were feeling rather tired that day and needed a rest.  Although strangely enough those of us in need of a rest seemed to find the best place to do so being the bar of the Red Lion.

Indeed, I was currently sitting in the bar with Seth and Tom, although our current excuse was that we were not yet needed for the rehearsal and felt it sensible to be somewhere warm so as not to damage our voices.  Those in the music group had jeered at us, but we put that down to jealousy as they were having a run through of the music first before the choir joined them.

For we were preparing for a Christmas Eve service to be held in the village church.  There was to be a full nativity with the choir and music group.  Seth’s grandson, William, and Daisy, his new wife, were taking the parts of Joseph and Mary, and by the way we had caught various glances between the two of them we suspected this would be the only chance they would have, although the following year they might well be providing a candidate for the infant Jesus.

The village school was providing the angels.  The school teacher had promised dire consequences if any of them were less than angelic.  There had been some controversy when it was revealed the Angel Gabriel was a girl, but since she was the only one who could be relied on to remember the words this had been accepted, albeit reluctantly.

I wasn’t sure whether the final selection for the shepherds had been made.  Someone had suggested the actual village shepherds should have the role, but this had been vetoed by the men themselves, all of whom reckoned they saw enough sheep in their working lives and didn’t need to see any more.  Various other names had been put forward, but due to an unfortunate incident between the son of one family and the daughter of another (the couple themselves were quite happy and were now living in Brighton) it had proved difficult to put together an amicable group.

Holmes was playing one of the three wise men.  This might seem an unusual choice, but one of the other wise men had a beautiful tenor voice and it had been agreed he would sing the final solo accompanied by Holmes on his violin.  I had heard them practising and had applauded this decision.

We were just debating whether we would have time to have a second pint when Arthur, Seth’s younger grandson, put his head round the door and told us our presence was required.

***

The service went extremely well.  The angels were sufficiently angelic to pass muster and several mothers of the smaller angels were seen to wipe away a tear from their eye, before muttering that was probably the only time they’d be angels.  The song from the wise men caused more than the mothers to shed a tear.  The words of the song had been written by the third wise man and captured the hopes and fears of many as the gifts were presented to the Infant Christ.  Holmes had written the music, a simple tune yet one which captured the imagination.

And I?  I was a shepherd.  Shortly before the service began there had been a fight in one of the pubs, in which alcohol and simmering disagreements had come to a head.  The original shepherds had been in the midst of it and were consequently unable to take on their roles.  So some of the choir were hastily bundled into shepherds’ outfits and told if we were unable to get down on our knees before the crib to lean on our shepherds’ crooks.

As I said, life in Sussex was never boring.


End file.
